by Beth Flynn
“And you have my timecard that confirms I clocked in here an hour later at eleven o’clock,” Jake added.
“Mr. Chambers, are you right or left-handed?” one of them asked.
“I already told you I’m right-handed.”
Both detectives gave me a hard look when the younger one asked, “Can you confirm how Mr. Chambers sustained the injury to the knuckles on his right hand?”
This told me they’d already asked Jake and were now asking me to verify his answer. “He was grating cheese at my house the night you say Mr. Dunn was attacked. The grater slipped and shredded his knuckles. I patched Jake up myself.” My voice had taken on the tone of authority I’d used at Monteith Medical.
Dolly knocked and peeked her head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt but Jake is needed.”
“We’re done here,” Richard Nixon said.
Jake stood and excused himself. The detectives asked him to give them a call if he thought of anything that might help their case. When Jake closed the door behind him, I asked them why they were even bothering with trying to find the person who committed the attack. They politely explained that it was procedure and that the investigation would more than likely lead nowhere. Since the bar didn’t have surveillance cameras and without any credible witnesses, including the victim who claimed not to remember anything, they were coming to the end of their interview process.
They thanked me for my time and as they were walking away I couldn’t help but ask, “Detective?”
The younger one turned around. “Yes, ma’am?”
“What kind of injuries did Sheila’s husband sustain?”
He put his hands in his pockets. “A broken jaw, torn retina, unrecognizable face, punctured lung, and a broken wrist. The same injuries he inflicted on his wife.” He shook his head and said with a sardonic grin, “An ironic coincidence, don’t you think?” Without waiting for me to answer, he walked out the door to catch up with his partner.
I felt a chill as I stood alone in the abandoned conference room trying to gather my thoughts when, without warning, one of them bumped into a memory. It was the conversation Jake and I had the night we took Sheila to the hospital. I’d commented on the way home how I wondered if feeling the same pain they’d inflicted on their victims would deter an abuser. I shivered and whispered to the empty room, “Ironic coincidence indeed.”
Chapter 29
How to Treat a Lady
Jake and I trailed behind Jonathan and Cindy as we made our way to the lake that was hidden from the world on the back side of my property. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Jonathan carry a blanket tucked up under his left arm while tightly clutching Cindy’s hand with his free one. She was adorable in her hiking boots, sweatpants, and long-sleeved Dr. Who shirt. She carried the picnic basket in the crook of her right arm.
“She adores the tenth doctor,” Jake told me as we marched behind them. “Whatever the heck that means.”
“I’ve never seen the show. I’m just as stumped as you are,” I assured him.
“Kids.” Jake chuckled under his breath.
I hadn’t given any consideration to how Jonathan would act when they arrived at my house. Would he look down the road and remember his old life? And worse yet, what would we do if bad memories from his childhood had resurfaced? I’d expressed my concern when they’d first arrived, but the issue never arose.
“He still calls me Kenny, so this is a happy memory for him,” Jake reassured me. He was astounded that Jonathan recalled the way to the lake. He led our little procession without once getting lost or confused.
“Like you said,” I reminded him, “a happy memory.”
Once we arrived, I had Cindy help me spread out the blanket under a shade tree while Jonathan and Jake got the fishing poles ready. After the four of us did a little fishing, Jake and I got comfortable on the blanket and watched as Jonathan and Cindy enjoyed themselves.
“I can’t believe they were trying to tie you to the crime because of your injured hand and a thirty-year-old prison record,” I told Jake as I leaned back against the tree and sipped on water. He was sitting next to me with his hands on his knees, clutching a cold Dr. Pepper.
“Don’t be surprised. I was a viable suspect. It’s how it is, Barbie.” He looked over at me before adding, “It’s how it always will be. A record doesn’t go away.”
“Really?” I tilted my head. “Would you believe I got an email less than a month ago where some stranger offered all kinds of professional hacking services?” I shared with him that for a ridiculous fee the email outlined how they could erase any criminal record, increase a credit score, make credit card debt disappear, remove unwanted content on websites, and a myriad of other services that sent a streak of fear down my spine. “It’s downright scary how vulnerable we are.”
He took a hearty swig of his soda and without looking over at me said, “I still use a flip phone that’s on its last breath, so it’s all beyond me. But I’m not surprised. Even I’ve heard of the dark web, and I’m sure any decent hacker knows how to scrub the internet.”
We jumped up when Jonathan and Cindy both hooked a fish at the same time. Their excitement was palpable, and after helping Cindy reel in and unhook her fish, which she insisted be returned to the lake so it could have a happy life, Jake and I wandered back to the blanket. I reached into the cooler that he’d lugged the whole mile and pulled out a plastic container of fruit. I yelled to Jonathan and Cindy, offering a snack. Both declined my offer. I couldn’t even entice them away with their favorite snacks that I’d packed—applesauce with cinnamon for Jonathan, and chocolate pudding cups for Cindy. I reminded them that it was almost time to reapply their sunscreen and held up the container of fruit to Jake. He shook his head and asked, “Why no blueberry pancakes?”
His question took me by surprise. I didn’t answer right away. He didn’t push as I slowly chewed a piece of melon and let the lonely buzz of a solo bee, and the smell of lake water mingling with fresh air, take me back to my childhood.
“It’s stupid,” I admitted.
“Probably not, but I’d like to know if you’d care to share.”
I snapped the lid back on the container and returned it to the cooler. “It was after I first moved in with my grandparents. Blueberries were in season and my grandmother told me that if I picked them, she would make me and Fancy homemade blueberry pancakes.”
I must have had a dreamy look on my face because Jake asked me, “What are you remembering right now?”
“I thought Frenita was the prettiest baby I’d ever seen. She was a toddler, but it was right after we moved here. She still looked at me like I’d slid down off a rainbow wearing a gown made of gold with a crown of jewels on my head. I was her hero back then.”
I shook it off and swallowed my discomfort at how quickly that had changed. “Anyway, I spent an entire afternoon picking blueberries. The next morning I headed downstairs to the kitchen. My grandmother had a stack of pancakes sitting in the middle of the table. It was as high as the milk pitcher. My granddaddy had already headed out back to work on his tractor, and Fancy was sitting at the table on a stack of pillows stuffing her little face.”
“And?”
“My grandmother told me that I was a lazy slob. I didn’t come down early enough to help her in the kitchen so I wouldn’t be getting any pancakes. She plopped a bowl of cold oatmeal in front of me and told me to eat up.” I met his eyes briefly and looked away. “I swore I would never give her the satisfaction of thinking she’d hurt me. I turned up my nose and pretended they didn’t interest me.” I gave a cynical laugh. “I can’t tell you how many times after that she made blueberry pancakes and piled them up in front of me almost daring me to eat them. To fall in love with them so she could revel in the memory of her cruelty that day. I was obstinate and refused to give her the satisfaction.” I turned to him. “See, I told you it was stupid.”
He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t stupid, but it does give me an i
dea of how stubborn you can be. She’s been dead for a long time, and you’ve honestly never tried blueberry pancakes?” He gave me a doubtful glance.
“Not once,” I replied with an indignant tilt of my chin. “I guess I won’t let her win. Even from beyond the grave.” I adjusted myself on the blanket and blurted out, “Your turn. Who is Emmy?”
I knew I caught him off guard when his brow crinkled and he gave an absentminded tug of his beard.
“How do you know about Emmy?”
“I don’t know about Emmy. That’s why I’m asking.” He still looked confused. “I saw her name on your chest.” I was not only curious about the name but its placement. I wouldn’t ask, but secretly wondered why her name was displayed above his heart, and yet, the space over his heart was oddly devoid of ink. It was the only place on his chest and arms that didn’t have a tattoo.
“Ah,” he answered. “The tattoo. Of course.”
“And?” He didn’t answer right away so I prodded. “I know you said you’ve never been married, but did you love her? I mean, her name is permanently on your body.”
“Yeah, I loved Emmy.” He smiled wistfully. “It was Emmaline, but I was the only one who got away with calling her Emmy.”
Like an old beach ball with an unseen leak, I felt myself slowly deflating. I don’t know why, but the thought of Jake loving Emmy bothered me. And I had no right to be bothered. He knew how much I’d loved Kenny. And of course, I was in love with Richard when I married him. I shirked off the exasperating thought. “Tell me about her.” I reached over and plucked a flower, feigning interest in the petals.
“Emmy was different. So very different. She was extremely old-fashioned.” The corner of his mouth tugged up in a grin that told me he was enjoying a secret memory. I felt my back involuntarily tighten. “She could be a little snooty, but she had a heart of gold. She came from money, and when her fortune dwindled away because of poor management by an accountant, she had a hard time adjusting. But she did. She was resilient.”
“She sounds pretty amazing.” The comment was sincere, but it was laced with a tad of jealousy that I didn’t want to admit.
He looked over at me and smiled. “She taught me a lot, but more than that she believed in me. She’s the one that encouraged me to take the road less traveled. It’s why I’m in Pumpkin Rest.”
I laughed and told him, “I can assure you any road that leads here is definitely the one less traveled.” He gave me a heart-melting smile and I asked, “So what happened? Where is she now?” I wanted to know. Had to know.
“She died.”
“Oh, Jake!” I cried. “When?”
He gave a thoughtful pause and looked up at the sky. “It’ll be two years next month.”
“I’m so sorry.” My deflated ego could pound sand. I was genuinely sad for him. I reached out and softly stroked the side of his arm. He grabbed my hand and held it tightly for a few quiet moments.
“I am too,” he admitted while releasing my hand. “You two would have liked each other. You have a lot in common believe it or not. I think you both have experienced the same kind of pain.” He thumped his chest over his heart. “And she was as stubborn as you are.”
The sun decided to hide behind a dark gray cloud at the same time the flowers that were still in bloom tossed their bright heads in a gust of wind that surprised us.
Jake jumped up and said, “I didn’t see any rain in the forecast, but looks like it’s time to start packing it up.”
I agreed and said we could eat lunch back at the house.
After we made our way home and unpacked and devoured our meal, I could see that Cindy and Jonathan were getting tired. The long walk and fresh air must’ve made them sleepy and I knew they were ready to head home. Jake loaded them and the borrowed fishing gear in the van and ran back up the porch to kiss me goodbye.
“Friday night at my place?”
“I’ll be there. What time?” I tried not to let my smile get too wide.
“I’ll pick you up at six. Is that too early?”
“Pick me up?” I laughed. “You don’t need to pick me up. I can drive myself. I don’t remember what you told me the other night so text me the address and I’ll put it in my GPS.”
He gave me a quick kiss and walked down the steps toward the van. “I invited you to my house. I’m coming to pick you up. And that’s final.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Seriously? What is this, 1950? You sound so old-fashioned, Jake. Where did you get the idea you need to pick me up?”
He was gripping the van door handle and gave me a serious look. “Emmy was a lady and showed me how to treat one. And you’re my lady, so I’m picking you up, Barbie.” He didn’t give me a chance to reply as he climbed into the van and backed out of my driveway. I waved to the three of them as he drove off.
I was listless that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman he’d loved. The one whose name was memorialized on his chest forever. The one who taught him values and how to treat a lady. How could I ever hope to compete with someone who died and left an imprint not only on his chest but on his soul as well?
Chapter 30
I’m Here to Pay a Tax Bill
“You told him the blueberry pancake story, huh?” Darlene asked while we stood in the cabinet and counter section of a large home improvement store that was an hour outside of Pumpkin Rest. It was Thursday and Darlene and I had planned a girls’ day out. We’d managed to spend the entire morning making some selections, and as soon as I set up a delivery time and gave them a deposit, we were going to have lunch and visit a salon.
“Yeah, and he didn’t say much. Only that he understood and that I was stubborn.”
“And he’s right,” she scoffed. “I’ve always said you were the queen of second chances. Why you can’t find it in your ornery self to give a couple of blueberry pancakes another chance, I’ll never know!”
“I’m stubborn, not ornery,” I reminded her.
“You’re both,” she admonished with a laugh.
At Darlene’s request, we ate lunch at a vegan bistro. “It’s all the craze now, and I’m glad to say I’ve tried it, but it’s not for me.” Darlene delicately wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin.
“For someone who insisted on trying it and cleaned your plate, are you sure about that?” I teased as I pulled out my credit card. Today was my treat. My way of thanking Darlene for all the free time she’d given up to help me with my renovation selections.
We walked to a quaint coffee shop/bookstore and settled in a cozy corner with our drinks. We had an hour before our salon appointment for mani/pedis, waxing for me, and a facial for Darlene. I spent the next hour filling her in on Sunday’s fishing excursion. It took me a while before I told her about Emmy.
“And this bothers you why?” She quirked an eyebrow.
“Who said it bothers me?”
“It would be rude to roll my eyes, but they’re aching to move.” She brought her cup to her lips, and before taking a sip, said, “I know you too well, Barbie. It bothers you that he loved someone.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s not like I’ve never dated or wasn’t in relationships with people who’d cared for others before I came along. I feel like I’m in middle school again. Jake makes me feel things I haven’t felt in decades, Dar. You’re right.” I looked up and begged God, “Please help me to stop acting and feeling like an idiot.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re not an idiot.” She reached over and playfully slapped my knee. “I can see how it would be hard to measure up to a woman who’s no longer around to make mistakes. But that’s not where you should focus. You need to see, really see who’s looking back at you from the mirror. You are an amazing woman, and just like you faulted Fancy for only seeing her worth in what a man could give her, you need to stop defining yours by what men have taken from you.”
“That stings, Dar.”
“Good,”
she flung back at me. “Sometimes a little tough love can go a long way. And if I have to nip at you once in a while to let you see the light, then so be it.”
I gave her a sincere grin. “Promise you’ll always set me straight.”
“You can count on it.”
On the drive home, I told Darlene about my decision to have a whirlpool tub installed in my new bathroom.
“I thought you were going to add a claw-foot bathtub like the one downstairs.” I glanced over and watched her admiring her fingernails. She must’ve felt my stare because she looked up and asked, “Why did you change your mind?”
“Jake changed my mind. When I told him what my plans were for the bathroom, he asked why I needed another old tub and shower since I already had one downstairs. And when I explained that I was trying to restore the house to its original era, he asked me if I was going to find a refrigerator from the 1940s.”
Darlene scrunched up her nose. “Ew. You didn’t tell me you were buying old retro appliances.”
“I’m not, Darlene,” I replied with a tad of impatience. “That was his point. I’m restoring the kitchen and using cabinets and flooring from that era, but of course I’m going to put in new appliances. He said one claw-foot tub was enough and I should have a nice big tub and a separate shower in the master bath. And I’ll be using retro tile and accessories that will still give me the same effect I’m aiming for.”
“It makes sense,” she agreed. “When is your contractor going to start?”
“He can’t start for a few weeks, but Jake insisted on prepping the room for me.”
“What kind of prepping?” she wanted to know.
